hands in the dough

I see her hands in the dough,
the powder
of flour,
the cutting board,
the kneading, rolling.
her radio on.
Christmas music.
her bird in it's cage.
snow
in the air.
the tree is up, the train
slowly
chugs around the toy track.
a mirror pond,
a miniature town
around it.
there's a phone nestled
between shoulder
and neck.
her laminated list of numbers
on the counter.
I see her hands making
pasta.
the sauce on the stove.
the wooden
spoon, the oven on.
in this world, all was well.
nothing felt wrong.